


Wants and Needs

by Amorette



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: M/M, Unadulterated pornography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4656705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you are fan of S&M and like Ares and Hercules together, here it is.  Pure unadulterated smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wants and Needs

**Author's Note:**

> The blame for this also lies at the feet of the old KSAres list. We were naughty, naughty girls. This has never been posted anywhere but on that list and I'm not sure I should post it here but . . .

KSAres Sex Act Raffle Challenge:  
25\. Taking your partner's testicles in your mouth  
45\. Having your fingers sucked  
49\. Being the S in S/M activities

 

Wants and Needs  
by Amorette

The shackles were made by Haephestus himself and were exquisite. Exquisite. That was an odd word to use to describe something so heavy, so cruel, but it was the right word. The horseshoe shaped portion was made of smoothly rounded metal, with no sharp edges, engraved and chased in finest gold. The bar across the opening of the horseshoe was shaped suggestively, also rounded, and covered in gold. If you turned the objects to catch the light of the torches, you could make out the pattern that ran around the edge, phallic looking flowers intertwined with blatant leaves. These shackles were not meant to bind an enemy but a lover.

The shackles were mounted to a frame. The frame was wooden, polished ebony trimmed and inlaid with rosewood in a pattern of vines studded with thorns. It was also a piece of the finest craftsmanship, exquisitely beautiful and far more powerful than it first appeared for this device, like the shackles, was meant to restrain a god.

Hercules touched each shackle in turn, wondering if he could do what had been asked of him. Before he could decide that the request was beyond his abilities, the door to the room containing the framework and the accessories that went with it, swung silently open.

Ares entered but did not speak to acknowledge Hercules. His eyes, flat and blank, flicked over the frame, over the racks with their whips and chains, binders and masks, glanced across the half god who stood, naked save for a leather breechclout around his waist, and came to rest on the floor.

Ares was nearly naked as well. His skin gleamed bronze in the torch light, highlighting the curve of each muscle. His breechclout was black, held by a buckle whose pattern mimicked that of the shackles. Silently, Ares stepped forward until he was within the frame. He met his brother's pale eyes, defiant, angry, unbowed. He held up his arms to receive the shackles. Hercules reached out and touched Ares' shoulder, laid one hand on it and exerted pressure. Ares frowned before he realized Hercules meant for him to turn around and face the other way. It was nothing to him. He shrugged and turned.

Now Hercules fastened the shackles, one to each wrist, one to each ankle. Ares tested them when they were all secured, straining against them so that his muscles swelled.

"Made by Haephestus," said Hercules.

"Shut up."

Hercules shook his head. This wasn't his idea, after all. He moved around behind the god, studying the body in front of him. Ares shifted as best he could but the frame and shackles were designed to hold him and hold him they did.

Ares tensed as one hand came to rest at the base of his neck, then traced a line slowly down his spine, hesitating at the belt that held his clout, then slipping around his waist to rest on the buckle.

"Do you want. . ."

"SHUT UP!" Ares drew a shuddering breath. "Do it, don't talk about it."

"Fine."

Hercules jerked the catch free and tugged away the covering so that Ares stood naked. For a moment, Hercules just studied the body before him, as if Ares were a work of art. Then he turned and looked at what was arrayed for his use. The first choice was easy. He picked up a blindfold made of black leather. When Ares resisted, Hercules grabbed the long dark hair and jerked it, hard.

"You wanted this," said Hercules as he tied the blindfold across his half brother's eyes. Like everything in the room, it was made by a god to be used on a god. It blinded the god as surely as if he were purely mortal.

Then Hercules stood back again, watching, waiting. Ares breathing was the only sound in the room.

This was a mistake. He had told Ares this. You don't know me as well as you think, Hercules had said. I am my father's son, too. If you expect sympathy, you'll be mistaken. Ares had laughed. I expect pain, Ares replied.

Pain and pleasure.

Hercules selected a tangle of leather and steel off the rack, then walked around to face Ares. Ares tried to move his feet in automatic response, then grunted softly when he remembered he couldn't. He started when Hercules' hand came to rest on his breast. He caught his breath when Hercules' tongue pushed aside the tangle of hair on his chest and bite delicately at the nipple.

Ares chuckled. "Did Iolaus. . ."

Before he could finish the sentence, Ares' head was snapped back by a blow.

"You say nothing unless I tell you to speak. Or do you want to be gagged as well?"

Hercules could see how surprised Ares was. The god's eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. Well, Hercules had warned him.

One nipple, gently bit, until it stood hard, then the other, then the tongue trailed down across the belly, following the line of black hair. Ares' cock, always half hard, rose to meet Hercules' tongue. Hercules' hand trailed down after his tongue, sliding under the cock to cup the balls as if to weight them, soft and vulnerable. Ares' breath caught again, then again, as Hercules traced the thick vein on the underside of the cock.

Ares head tilted as he heard the jangle of the objects in Hercules' hand. He suspected what would happen next and he was right. A band was wrapped around his scrotum, above his testicles, and pulled painfully tight. He kept quiet, even as Hercules took first one, then other testicle in his mouth, running his tongue around them, even when Hercules gave them a sharp tug with his teeth. 

Next came the rings and straps. Three rings, one at the base of the god's cock, one half way up and one just under the thick head.

"Made by Haephestus," whispered Hercules as he fastened each one, watching them tighten until the flesh swelled out around the rings. "A mortal uses a cock ring to keep hard. These are made to keep a god from coming. But you know that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Ares' head jerked around as heard another sound. Hercules must have removed his breechclout and set it aside as well, And then, the sound of a glass stopper being removed from a bottle. Ares grinned. So much for subtlety. Hercules had no patience.

The oil was cool on his skin as Hercules poured it across his shoulders. Ares grin faded. Perhaps he was wrong about his bastard brother. Hercules spread the oil over all over Ares body, slowly and carefully, as if he molding the god into a glistening statue. Strong hands worked the oil, scented of almonds, into every curve and line, across the broad shoulders, down the curve of the back, over the swell of the buttocks, down each leg and then back up again. Only the trapped testicles and cock were left untouched. Hercules combed his fingers through the hair on his brother's chest, until it lay flat against the skin, heavy with the oil. He moved up the tense arms until he touched the shackles, even laced his fingers into Ares' and squeezed them. Then the fingers, long and agile, traced the features of the blindfolded god. Unwillingly, Ares found himself relaxing into those hands as the worked the muscles of his neck. Then Hercules nipped his ear, the one that usually held a dangling earring.

"I warned you."

Ares said nothing, only listened as Hercules moved behind him. He wasn't used to being blind but he could easily imagine Hercules' naked body, also glistening with some of the oil, for it had pressed up against the god's at times. He could imagine the cock as well, hard and jutting forward. Zeus' gift of virility went to all his sons.

The first blow of the whip caught Ares by surprise. He hadn't seen Hercules studying the array of whips. There were three, one with a single braided strand of leather, like drovers used on animals; one with nine strands, each strand ending in knot; one with small metal hooks on the end of the tassel of strands. Hercules has selected the second one, the kind used to drive slaves at the oars. He had hefted it and found the balance perfect. He didn't know if Haephestus had crafted these as well but it was beautifully made.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated, staring at Ares' back. Ares was more relaxed, soothed even, by the massage. He wasn't anticipating the blow. Then Hercules grabbed the handle tightly, pulled the whip back and struck.

The blow drew a hiss of breath from the bound god, his whole body instantly taut. Ares waited. Would Hercules lose his nerve?

Now that he was expecting it, Ares heard the slight sound the whip made as it cut through the air. It landed on his opposite shoulder. He was surprised as well as hurt. Hercules knew what he was doing. Rhythmically, Hercules laid blows across Ares' back and down over his buttocks. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six. Each blow landed with more force until Ares was arching away from his brother's strength, biting his lip to keep from crying out. They both lost count. The beating stopped only when Hercules found his arm trembling, his breath searing in his throat.

Stunned by his own violence, Hercules tossed the whip into the corner. Ares hung his head as he heard the sound but only for a moment, then his brother's hand was in his hair and his head was jerked back again.

"Is this what you wanted? Did you want me to hurt you?"

"Yes." Ares' answer was a long hiss.

"Did you want me to draw blood?"

Now his voice was a moan. "Yes. . ."

Both hands were in his hair, pulling his head forward until his lips were forced hard against his brother's. They kissed, tongues searching, biting each other's lips until they tasted each other's blood. Ares rocked his pelvis forward until he found what he was searching for, Hercules' swollen cock pressed against Ares' belly.

"Fuck me," cursed Ares. Whimpered Ares. Commanded Ares. Begged Ares. "Fuck me."

"No." 

A second whip came into play, its tiny hooks catching the flesh of Ares chest. Ares howled. Hercules struck. 

"You. . ." cried Hercules as he used the last whip. "Wanted. . ." The blows rained on the bleeding body. "THIS!"

"YOU WANT THIS, TOO!"

The third whip was tossed into the corner. Hercules leaned on the wall, gasping. Ares hung from his shackles, bleeding.

None of the wounds really mattered. The body was flesh but the body was the flesh of a god. It would heal instantly, if Ares willed it. The pain was transitory, fleeting, like everything in life. Ares reveled in it now but it would not last.

Hercules tipped his brother's head back and pulled the blindfold free. They stared at each other, each face blood and tear-stained.

"Why?" asked Hercules, giving his brother a shake.

Ares' voice was hoarse. "You know why."

Snarling, Hercules grabbed Ares' jaw and forced it to open.

"Suck them," he commanded, putting his fingers into his enemy's mouth. 

Ares did as he was told. He ran his tongue around those long fingers, tasting the oil that they had rubbed into his skin, tasting the leather from the whips, the sweat from the effort, the blood from his body. He licked and sucked Hercules' fingers as if they were the cock of his lover. He watched Hercules as he did it. He knew Hercules' cock was as hard as his, even without the binding constraints. He saw in Hercules' eyes how much the half god was enjoying the touch of his brother's tongue. He knew what Hercules was going to do.

Hercules pulled his fingers away and gave an Ares a last, bruising kiss, then moved behind him. Saliva and sweat and oil and blood slicked Ares as Hercules slid his fingers deep into this brother, loosening the tight mucles that tried to resist the intrusion.. His other hand pulled again at Ares' hair.

"You wanted this." He repeated that mantra as he positioned himself behind his brother. "You wanted this." He yanked out his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Now he was impatient. "You." He started to push in, groaning at the heat. "Wanted." He used both hands to grab Ares around the waist, forcing him to bend forward despite the strain it put on the god's bound arms. "THIS." He came almost immediately as he thrust root deep into his brother. But he was the son of Zeus.

He thrust hard and fast until he came the second time, then slowly, his hands moving up to caress Ares' chest, again combing through the hair, again pulling at the nipples. Now he bit at his brother's shoulders, then kissed them.

"You wanted this," cried Hercules as he pulled Ares into his arms and came again. "You wanted this."

Ares moaned and pushed back, sobbing in need, so blind with lust he had forgotten the rings binding him, holding him back.

"You wanted this," whispered Hercules, each thrust making Ares cry out in pleasure. "You wanted this."

"I. . ." Ares gasped. "Wanted. . ." He moaned. "YOU."

Hercules' hand pulled the rings binding Ares' cock free and the god came. Then Hercules freed Ares' hands and they dropped to the floor, Hercules riding his brother. And they both came. 

"I. . ." groaned Hercules. "Wanted. . ." He thrust, his back arching, "You."

"I" they panted together as Hercules bent over Ares. "Love." They cried together as they came again. "You."

And the wounds on Ares' body healed, along with some in his heart.

***

Iolaus looked up and saw Hercules coming out of Cupid's temple, his face pale but peaceful.

"You were right," said Hercules and Iolaus nodded.

***

Cupid picked up his father's body and carried it to his bed, laying it gently on the silken sheets. Ares opened his eyes.

"You were right," he said and Cupid nodded.

August 2003

**Author's Note:**

> One of my original reviewers loved this story and told me I must be "into" bondage and S&M to "get it." Um, no. But I have a nasty imagination and like, George Takei, I read.


End file.
